


Lifeboat from Heaven

by awesomesauce1404



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Child Neglect, Gen, Greasers, Leather Jackets, My First AO3 Post, bring on the metaphor, life - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 16:26:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19404076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomesauce1404/pseuds/awesomesauce1404
Summary: Leather jackets are cool, and so is Dally. It's just how it goes.Diving a little deeper into the tiny mention of how Dally was arrested when he was 10, because why not. Sorry for the bad summary- this is my first fanfic, so feedback is appreciated!!!





	Lifeboat from Heaven

Dally loved leather.

But of course, that should go without saying. For a greaser kid living in the dumps of the big city, a leather jacket was the equivalent of a tiger's stripes. Sure, his old man always complained about the waste of money, saying nothing was wrong with a hardy denim jacket (rough and worn like him), but Dally and every other sane ten-year-old disagreed. All the tuff guys always had something black and leather-y on them. It made them look dark and brooding and richer than they really were to own those things. He figured that leather jackets had to be the superhero of all cloth, then, or better. Spandex is silly, anyways.

It still didn’t mean his old man would give in and buy something leather, though. So when other kids pointed at the comics in the window of the store and wished upon a lonely little star for one, he spat at the ground- took him ages to perfect the act. He won his scraps with little more than his fists- no weird flying alien could top that, even with laser eyes.

And one day, feeling the high from being an inch and a year taller, he saw a leather jacket on the floor of a store and the world blurred around him. Superheroes be hanged, he wanted the real deal so bad that he grabbed it without a second thought, tucked it into his ratty bag, bought some penny candy with a straight face and walked right out that door.

His old man only scoffed when he came home that day and asked him if there weren’t a better one he could’ve swiped. Dally ignored him and busied himself with rolling up the huge sleeves.

After that, nothing could stop the Dally-storm that whirled through the aisles and swept flotsam and stray goods back home and safe deep in his black leather pockets. No one would ever come in the way of his sticky fingers, heck, no one would ever see him do it, even when he dipped into handbags and flapping jackets.

Until someone did. Just as he was sticking his neck out more. And it had to be one of the fuzz.

Notorious ten-year-olds caught shoplifting a loaf of bread, a pack of cigarettes, penny candy and two stolen wallets on them were sentenced to a week in their local cooler, since his old man hanging up before the cop could get two words out was a pretty big no for bail.

Dally made it through six nights fine, shrinking invisible to the corner of his cell. The bum he was sharing it with looked and smelled half-dead, so he had a hard time getting any shuteye. At least they’d let him keep his jacket for extra warmth. He spent enough time in the streets to know what happened to little guys like him, no matter their tuff leather jackets, but no one bothered him much. He kept close to the fuzz for that to happen. Not too close. Pride still mattered, damn it.

Then the seventh day came and his last meal in the prison, and he was just beginning to itch for sunlight when a tall, mean-faced man came over to him before he’d finished eating. Dally knew what was going to happen as soon as he saw him- he’d seen the guy jumping other younger prisoners before. He tried to run, but there were only bars behind him.

So he didn’t say anything when the hood picked him up by his shirt. He didn’t do anything when he was thrown down. He hated being prey.

The jerk laughed at him and told him to take it like a man when he tried ducking the fists, so out of breath he couldn’t even tell the moron that he wasn’t a man, he was ten years old. The hood only tired and walked away when Dally went down hard and lay there, curling up into a tight ball with his black leather shell facing the cruel world.

Dally realized something that moment, abandoned by even his attackers on the cold floor of a cell. He didn’t like the thoughts he was thinking, but they were all true and no one cares if they’re scary (I do, a small voice says) because he hated the shiner he could feel swelling up way, way more. He didn’t like being tuff one bit, but he also wasn’t chicken. People would know that from now on, look at his leather jacket and know Dallas Winston is the guy who would fight the hood again and win, the guy who would beat up ten-year-olds because he can and he’s not weak.

He stayed tucked in the same position for the rest of the night, gripping that jacket like a lifeboat sent from heaven as the rest of his world drowned in truths.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey AO3! This is my first fanfiction and it's pretty bad, just dug it up to test out the system. Hope someone likes it- feel free to comment! I'd love to hear some feedback, even on my random one shots.


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